


Welcome Back To Love

by CarryOn_CarryOut



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alcohol, Drinking, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-23 13:03:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20243323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarryOn_CarryOut/pseuds/CarryOn_CarryOut
Summary: Jesse McCree has become more sparing with giving touch and smiles since re-joining Overwatch. Hanzo eventually figures out why he is paradoxically attempting to touch him. It's not because he likes his personal space, but instead because he grew unaccustomed to touch.A.K.A. Five times that McCree seeks physical closeness. Plus one time that someone requests it from him.(This is very tender and I will not apologize for it)





	1. Bloodied Gums

The problem, Hanzo is told by his brother, is that he has an analytical mind and a dreamer's heart. 

He categorizes himself away until all that remains is a husk, honour, and the name. Nobody truly knows McCree anymore. He likes it better that way. 

Genji hasn't ever been able to understand him. He does not understand the change either, how McCree seems to skirt around the edges of a group without ever touching anyone.

Even Reinhardt respects McCree's new request for personal space, despite the man's propensity towards clapping people on the back and shoulders.

Despite all of the mystery of it, Jesse McCree remains a puzzle that Hanzo does not care to solve. 

He'll let him keep his secrets.

Red catches his eye from across the mess. Hanzo's breath doesn't catch, but it does quicken.

The expression on his tan face is unreadable. When he glances at Hanzo, he forces a faint smile before his eyes roam to others.

His eyes flick back to Hanzo after scanning the room.

However, he walks off to the left, towards a group of agents who have expressed a few months ago that they don't want anything to do with Hanzo the Kinslayer.

Hanzo doesn't understand why his gums suddenly taste like blood. He had just been eating sweet tasting fruit. He doesn't know why the sight of McCree puts that taste into his teeth.

He's a dangerous man, and Hanzo shouldn't be reminded of it at this moment.

Eventually, the cowboy slithers over to Hanzo. His hips swing as if on a pendulum, and the motion seems more predatory than flirtatious. Low, ready to flee or strike.

"Howdy, Shimada-san, couldn't help but wonder what you're writing there," McCree drawls, tipping his hat up. "If ya don't mind me asking."

Hanzo stares at him. 

McCree is hostile and direct, but the words he chooses are a fascimally of politeness. It must be an issue he is concerned about. 

"Oh, its part of the ancient art of nun yah," he says, mustering all of the seriousness he can. "It means to be at peace and accept that you know nothing."

McCree throws his head back and laughs. It sounds genuine enough. He covers his mouth when he notices the few other agents in the room staring at him, waves them off with a smile.

He steals the seat across from Hanzo, sitting down. "That's an awful long way of saying 'fuck you', pardner."

Hanzo doesn't roll his eyes, but it is a near thing.

McCree watches him, but it is not an issue. Hanzo continues eating despite his occasional glances.

His foot accidentally bumps Hanzo's at one point. 

Hanzo politely shifts so that it is impossible for it to happen again. He knows that McCree prefers limbs kept to themselves.

McCree looks lost in thought, but Hanzo won't pry.

It is novel to eat with someone else. Conversation and people exit, and eventually they are left in silence as they eat, but Hanzo appreciates that someone is sitting near him.

For all of Genji's stories, he would have expected McCree to be larger and louder than life. The difference truly is odd.

Yet here he is, quietly sitting across the table from Hanzo. He looks like a cowboy, keeps to himself, and even has the voice to match.


	2. Riveting

A few weeks later, McCree struts over to Hanzo's table and sits down, wordless.

Conversation lights up almost immediately, causing Hanzo to let out a large smile. McCree is stiff and polite, but he seems to be relaxing as the minutes pass.

Hanzo cannot help but be slightly suspicious of the change in demeanor that McCree has made in only a handful of days, though perhaps he was in a poor mood until recently.

After a few minutes his foot bumps against Hanzo's again. It's intentional and unapologetic.

He is searching for something in Hanzo's face. Hanzo is mostly confused, but he wants to see how this plays out.

McCree's foot sits slotted against his own.

There is still something unsettling in the sediment underfoot. Hanzo wants to tug away, pull himself from the contact.

McCree shouldn't look as pleased as he does. Hanzo is certain it is a mask.

Hanzo doesn't understand why the cowboy isn't recoiling when he is undoubtedly uncomfortable.

It breaks pattern. It's abnormal. Statistically an outlier to everything Hanzo has observed about him.

He discovers that morning that McCree is perfectly capable of making incredibly pleasant conversation. He cannot help but be slightly irritated to find this out after weeks of trying; only to find McCree in a quiet mood each time.

McCree talks, he asks questions, he leans in and seems genuinely invested in Hanzo's answers. He laughs at jokes and makes his own.

Hanzo can ignore the strange intimacy of their shoes pressed nearby eachother.

He _would_ be able to, at least, if McCree didn't keep shifting his foot in tiny, jerky movements it every few minutes. Each shift reminds Hanzo that it is there.

Sometimes he can see the uncertain expression when McCree is distracted and not putting up the mask of confidence. It is the most uncomfortable that Hanzo has ever seen him, but he appears to be trying to hide that fact by eating and talking.

He blushes pretty heavily. It keeps rising and retreating.

Hanzo politely doesn't mention it.

He isn't even insulting or trying to embarrass McCree. He simply looks embarrassed and uncomfortable all on his own. Yet their shoes stay in contact with eachother.

They talk about how Hanzo is settling in at the watchpoint. He is doing fine, McCree is also doing well, but the watchpoint is loud compared to the road.

They talk about archery, as appearantly the cowboy used to hold it as a hobby in the past. Hanzo offers to teach him more than just his average skills sometime.

McCree pretends to consider it, but shakes his head no.

It doesn't stop the conversation, but Hanzo slowly moves away from it.

Each topic is simple, light, and enjoyable.

After McCree has had enough and pulls his foot back, Hanzo stands and goes to wash his plate.

The conversation at the table is only one of the many that Hanzo will enjoy with McCree.

Even now he can see hints of the fabled warm, friendly gunslinger in McCree. Hanzo looks forwards to working with him.

He can't bring himself to feel bad about the fact that McCree clearly is using him in order to build up a tolerance towards touch. Though it is an insanely odd choice to pick the scariest agent in the watchpoint.

He doesn't mention it.


	3. Commonality

It's two weeks later when he notices McCree sitting with his arms wrapped tightly around himself on the common room couch.

Agent Song has turned her attention back to the screen. She is sitting on the floor and leaning back against McCree's leg, focused on the video game active in front of her. She blows a pink piece of bubble gum and it pops in an unfortunately messy way.

McCree adjusts himself as Hanzo enters, folding his arms into a more natural crossed position that is not so eerily like a hug any longer. 

He also tugs his leg up, away from where D.Va had been pressed against it. It's timed with when she is leaning forwards, cursing at an enemy on the screen.

She activates some kind of secret weapon, and an animation of the character decapitating the enemy is visible.

McCree is glaring at Hanzo, daring him to say something about how he found the two of them positioned.

D.Va was clearly okay with what was happening, but he wouldn't doubt that she leaned forwards just to let McCree have his leg back.

Hanzo could ask. He pretends to watch Agent Song play just to buy time.

They are acquaintances now? Friends? Hanzo tries not to let the odd instance in the kitchen color his view.

Acquaintances. 

He determines it's still not his place to question anything. Regardless, he can easily determine that he was somewhat wrong earlier. 

McCree isn't afraid of contact. He simply is just is no longer used to it. He is working to be accustomed to it once more.

It's not Hanzo's problem. He choses not to comment because of that fact.

He delivers his message to Agent Song and steps out of the room.

It's not as if Hanzo has never experienced problems with recovering from touch starvation and the unintended consequences of living a loner lifestyle.

He himself has shied away from touch in the past, when his depression was at its worst and his guilt at its highest.

He is willing to be touched, careful to respect other agent's boundaries, and is firm with his own. Perhaps that is why McCree was seeking closeness with him. 

He would make a good stepping stone before a more outgoing agent.

D.Va is a peculiar choice, but perhaps there is a trend between her and Hanzo. As far as he can tell no other persons have been allowed as close to McCree as she and Hanzo have.

They are both new agents.

McCree most likely believes that no one has told them about his past openness. Or he believes that neither will hold it against him.

Hanzo is frustrated that he now wants to be casually touched as well. Most agents avoid him, which means that he is severely lacking in touch once again.

He laughs at himself. It seems it is a contagious affliction. He wonders how many other members of Overwatch suffer from touch starvation.

As they take a normal evening stroll around the watchpoint, Genji slings his arm around Hanzo's shoulders. It is almost enough. 

During meditation, warmth from Zenyatta's orbs make it easier to stem the want for physical closeness. It's easier to manage, but still ever present.

Hanzo finds a message on his comm, McCree asking him if he'd want to drink together sometime.


	4. What Friends Do

He watches McCree stand and walk to the bathroom after he accidentally bumps knees with Reinhardt on the drop ship.

Hanzo had admittedly been eavesdropping on the conversation. He somewhat enjoyed hearing Reinhardt animatedly explain an old battle he had gone through. The story had stopped long before one of Reinhardt's gesticulations had bumped McCree.

Hanzo has noticed that McCree has progressively been getting more comfortable with touch, but sometimes he still recoils when it is unexpected.

Reinhardt props his giant metallic cross sheild generator up onto his lap, the four spokes of it sticking out two feet each direction. The knight messes around with the settings, perhaps fine tuning based on the mission.

When McCree gets back, he sits near Hanzo. He doesn't have much of a choice, despite Reinhardt saying that he can put his shield back onto the floor.

Hanzo and McCree don't touch, but he looks more comfortable, so it is perhaps a good thing.

When Hanzo sleeps, exhausted from the mission, he is careful to do so in a way which he won't accidentally lean on McCree in. 

He wakes up to a noise.

He squints and looks around before nestling further into his jacket pillow on the wall. He just wants to sleep a little more.

The large, dry, smooth hand on his forearm is a pleasant surprise.

McCree is smiling at him. Hanzo blinks, surprised that it is not Reinhardt like he had first suspected. 

The hand retreats with the smile.

McCree is wearing thick leather gloves, that's why his hand felt similar to the knights.

Hanzo doesn't dare say anything.

He stands and nearly falls.

McCree quickly comes to his aid, offering an arm out as Hanzo wobbles. His leg had somehow fallen asleep.

He tentatively grabs McCree's bicep with one hand and forearm with the other.

He blinks to try and wake up. He shakes his foot, the tingles running up his leg unpleasantly similar to how summoning his dragons feels.

McCree smells like gunpowder and cigarsmoke. His smile is childlike, so different from the grumpy gunslinger before.

Hanzo is absolutely not going to comment on how pleased he looks. It makes Hanzo terribly happy in response, to have this moment.

McCree lays a hand over his own on his forearm.

He tries to memorize each sensation.

Once he is steady and his foot is awake, he mutters a non-descript, "thank you."

"It's just what friends do." The low and smokey drawl is not the response he was expecting. 

It is also an absolute lie.

He reaches for Jesse's bag before he can. Repayment for the favor isn't necessary, but he wants to.

They've drank together countless times, but this time Hanzo drinks less while McCree drinks as per usual. 

His heart hurts as McCree warbles along to stupid country songs and flops his whole body into a chair with tender tiredness.

He's hardly desirable when this sloppy and drunk. 

Hanzo wants to kiss him. He'd like to kiss him when they're both sober, when McCree could agree to it.

McCree is a sad drunk after a few minutes, and he cries into a pillow about the movie they watched. 

Hanzo reaches to rub consoling circles on his back, but he keeps his hands to himself.

Disastrous questions nearly spill off his drunk tongue.

He shouldn't.


	5. Draw

Jesse is a very close friend when he comes to Hanzo and asks him to teach him archery.

He has been making leaps and bounds in his adversion to touch lately. 

He is bolder and more friendly. Most agents adore him. He is sought out for advice and he doesn't shy away from grateful hugs anymore.

It was not as if he hated affection in the first place. It would be cruel to force him to accept what he didn't want. No. Jesse healed all on his own, reaching out for what he wanted, and coming to terms with the fact that he was allowed to ask.

Now he flourishes, smiles so bright that Hanzo's chest aches with it.

Out of the two of them, Hanzo has fallen behind significantly. He is bitter, and while he covets each touch that Jesse freely gives him, he never lets himself hope.

He instructs Jesse immediately on how to correct his footing. His draw form is surprisingly good, but there are a certainly a few adjustments that can be made.

Hanzo tries his best to explain the adjustment.

His elbow is still shifting worryingly out of position a little on the draw, which frustrates Hanzo. He can only think of how good Jesse smells, how he smiles as he makes a joke and even interrupts himself with a laugh.

He can't get Jesse to understand the issue with the draw, because he isn't seeing it.

Hanzo chides himself for being so distracted as to notice that Jesse was mostly shooting with his arms rather than his back. That is why his elbow had been sticking out.

"Can you just show me where my tension oughta be?" Jesse asks. "That might be easier."

Unfortunately, the act of adjusting Jesse's form means that Hanzo's hands will be on Jesse, even temporarily.

He gently adjusts Jesse's arm first, his grip loose on the elbow. 

Jesse stays very still during the process. He releases the arrow when Hanzo gives him the okay to.

He begins explaining with a touch how Jesse should be drawing more with his back.

His fingers skirt over the upper and middle of Jesse's back. He explains how after archery practice he should mostly be sore there instead of in his arms. A little soreness was acceptable, but if he mostly hurting in his draw arm, then he was doing it wrong like before.

His form improves immediately. Hanzo would like to say his accuracy does too, however it stays similar to how it was before.

Jesse fires arrow after arrow with half decent accuracy after his admitted lack of practice. His precision could use some work, as his spread is pretty wide around the bullseye.

Once he is out of arrows, he smiles wildly at Hanzo, proud of himself, predictably, for the three bullseyes he has landed.

Hanzo wants to kiss the smile off of his face. 

He imagines the scenario when he is alone in his room. Imagines tenderly touching that bearded scruff with both hands, imagines dragging that insufferably warm man into a searing kiss.

He imagines a rumble of laugher, imagines Jesse making an attempt at being coy. Imagines parted lips and sweet words.

He imagines ruining everything, because he has fallen in love with his best friend. He can't have everything he wants.


	6. Welcome Back

He rushes out of his room that morning in what can only be called a manic attempt at self destruction. He loves, for the first time in years, and he thinks that he might as well get the rejection over with.

He cannot find Jesse for the longest time. Three hours spent searching, and his determination to be the catalyst in his own self destruction drives him on like a indeterminately large pool of power.

Until he reaches the cliffside, where Jesse is sitting on a bench, overlooking the Gibraltar straight, smoking a heady cigar at nine in the morning. He pauses then.

Jesse turns and stares at him with an odd expression. "What's the rush? Is there some kind of emergency?"

Hanzo sits on the bench next to him without speaking. That is answer enough.

He is being odd. This rising swell of sweetness in his chest is making him odd.

Jesse offers him the cigar. 

The nicotine soothes something. He blows the smoke out, hardly tasting it through his distraction.

"When I was a Blackwatch agent." Jesse stares out at the sea. "I was firmly rooted in the belief that it was better if I didn't speak up if something bothered me."

Hanzo nods, he passes the cigar back.

"Lots of things bothered me then," he mutters. "People always watching my every move, the long hours with little pay, the stress of missions- Things are a lot better now that I'm honest."

Hanzo hums to let Jesse know he is listening. The words he had planned to say are quickly turning to ash in his throat.

Jesse was probably going to say that Hanzo was doing something bothersome. Hanzo had made the wrong decision, had let his hands linger too long in the archery range yesterday.

"The moral is, you gotta let people know when something is bothering you," Jesse says, with a nudge to Hanzo's side.

It takes him less than a second to turn away and blurt out, "I would like to kiss you."

The silence is cold, and vacuumous. Now that the truth is out, he can feel nothing but cathartic bliss.

His slate is wiped clean, he's destroyed everything. All Hanzo can do is wait for the response. He turns away from the ocean, wondering why it is taking Jesse so long to become angry. 

Jesse looks horribly shocked, but in a good way. His hand comes to his mouth and his eyes squint back tears.

Hanzo can feel himself smiling. He hadn't actually destroyed everything. The revelation has him feeling whiplash.

Jesse croaks out, "Please tell me that's not a joke, Hanzo."

Emboldened by the positive response, Hanzo can reply, "No, it is not a joke, I have wanted to for quite some time."

Jesse smiles, it's jagged and trembling. He laughs, a little broken with strong emotion.

Hanzo wants to remember it in all of its flawed perfection. He can no longer remember any of his favorite pieces of art, or his favorite music or movies or drink--

All Hanzo can think of as Jesse leans in and slots his lips against his is that this is what they deserve, whatever kind of affection that they want, whatever form they need.

It's been a while since either has accepted love, and both are fully taken by their kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you like it! I'll be linking my accounts here soon if you wanna shout at me, but for now, you can scream at me in the comments!


End file.
